


Blooming Lotus

by dcuros



Series: ShuAke Confidant Week 2k18 [3]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Personas (Persona Series), Angst, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Implied Sexual Content, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Gore, Mystery, ShuAke Confidant Week, is it still a mystery if the culprit is kinda obvious, other tags to be added as needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-05 17:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16371572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dcuros/pseuds/dcuros
Summary: In which Goro Akechi solves crime and wakes the dead, but not necessarily in that orderAlternatively, in which Ren dies and is alive again[pushing daisies AU]For ShuAke Confidant Week Days 3-6, Day 8





	1. Day 3 - Death

Some days, Goro Akechi likes to think he’s got his life figured out. He’s twenty-two years old, a private detective and sometimes celebrity. He runs his own agency, and he solves the most unsolvable of murders. The headlines love him; he’s young, he’s handsome, he’s intelligent, and he has all of Tokyo screaming his name.

Today, however, he finds all of Tokyo channeled into the voice of one Futaba Sakura, teenage hacker and full-time pain-in-the-ass, coming from his phone speaker.

“Goro!” She screeches again for good measure, just to grind whatever’s left of his eardrums into a fine powder,  “Something’s wrong with my bugs at Leblanc. I need you to check it out!”

He _could_ refuse of course, just like how he could refuse every single minion quest Futaba tosses his way, the very same ones he ends up doing anyway. But he doesn’t.

They are business partners after all. They have each other’s backs.

(It has nothing to do with the amount of blackmail Futaba has at her disposal. Nor does it have anything to do with a certain barista on duty that day.)

Leblanc’s door is locked when he arrives at Yongen-Jaya, the hanging sign declaring the café closed. He knocks and tries to peer through the door when no one responds, but the glare of the morning sun reflects off of the glass panes and burns into his retinas. Sighing, he looks around the street, checking for any potential witnesses, before he starts picking the lock, just like the way Ren taught him. He figures, it’s not breaking and entering if the owner’s daughter gave him permission right?

The café floor is littered with books, broken shards and loose coffee grounds, probably from the jars Goro notices are missing from the bean shelf. The mess frames the overturned chairs in a way Goro was sure Kitagawa would appreciate. Behind the counter, the café register hangs open and bereft of its contents. Was there a burglary?   

He sees no sign of Ren so far.

He steps inside and carefully maneuvers around the shards that threaten to pierce through the soles of his battered loafers. He glances at the kitchen, checks the bathroom and sticks his head up the attic, but he sees neither head nor hair of his favorite barista. He checks back outside again, in case Ren merely stepped out for a moment, before standing right at the center of the mess, taking in the entire scene. It’s in times like this that he misses the barista’s keen eye for details.

He raises a hand up to his chin— his signature thinking pose, according to the magazines— and walks over to check the register. Dark messy curls catch his eye, attached to the unmoving form of one Ren Amamiya leaning against the counter’s base.

Dread rises in Goro’s gut. The sight is familiar but it’s the kind of familiar Goro definitely doesn’t want to see, especially not in this little café he’s grown comfortable in. He quickly vaults over the counter, wincing when his foot nearly catches on the _very expensive-looking_ siphons and drops next to Ren. A conclusion jumps to the forefront of Goro’s mind as he looks over the barista and it’s one he wrestles back down with all his might.

But try as he might, the facts are unmistakable: Ren isn’t stirring, and his chest remains unnaturally still. The greyish pallor of his skin only serves to highlight the hand-shaped bruises that circled the barista’s neck.

Ren is dead. Murdered.

Fuck. He quickly rips off his left glove and sets his phone’s timer with his right. Goro considers _very carefully_ where to touch— _if_ he should touch.

His hand hesitates over Ren’s corpse.

_A quick tap on the hand? Too impersonal. Bop him on the nose? Playful, yes, even coy, but inappropriate given the circumstances. Hell, maybe be bold, forget the hands, just lean over and meet his lips with your own and —_

He cuts his thoughts short with a shake of his head and cups Ren’s cheek. He draws back as soon as feels a spark of warmth course through his finger and into the cold skin underneath it.  

Ren wheezes and clutches at his neck. His eyes glance around wildly. Goro’s just opened his mouth to explain when Ren grabs a fallen book and beans Goro right between the eyes.

* * *

Goro was eight when he discovered he could make the dead come to life.

His eyes wide, he watched the withered lotus straighten itself out in his ungloved hands, their usual confines soaked from his many failures to reach the dead flowers floating in the park’s little raised pond. Its petals radiated a vitality it certainly hadn’t felt in a long time.

He giggled, giddy from the warm sparks dancing over his hand as he reached over and touched and touched and touched until the pond bloomed with healthy pink lotuses despite the deadly chill of winter.

Laughing, he ran all the way home with his single flower in tow. Goro hoped to catch his mother before she left for her evening job. He slammed open the door but his greeting was cut short when he found his mother collapsed by the entrance hall.

He’s by her side in a heartbeat (as in his heartbeat, not hers; not because his was especially fast but because hers had stopped completely).

He tried to shake her awake anyway, pleading, “Mom, _please_ get up. Look! I got you something,” but she remained as cold and still as before.

His hands shook as he reached over and cupped her face, feeling a mixture of relief— and terror, because _what if_ — when he felt the warm sparks shoot from his hands to her face.

His mother sat up, dazed, exhaustion lining her fair features. She glanced at Goro and picked up the now-crushed lotus on the floor beside him. “Did you get this for me, sweetie?”

Goro could only nod numbly in response.

The lines on his mother’s face smoothed out a little and she gushed in delight. “Thank you so much, it’s so pretty! Where did you get these?” But before Goro could say a word, she checked her watch and flinched. “Oh! I’m going to be late! I’m sorry, dear, your dinner’s on the table. Don’t forget to wash up, okay?” She ruffled his hair, making Goro giggle when his hair started sticking up from the static from her thick wooly mittens. Satisfied, she stood up, blew Goro a kiss and walked out the door.

(But later that night, when Goro stirred upon hearing his mother’s footsteps, when he heard her fall lifelessly to the ground after kissing his forehead good night, when he felt nothing but cold skin under his fingertips even after he touched and touched and touched, Goro learned his power had its limits.

And the next day, as he stood out in the hallway with his neighbour Futaba and away from the gloomy atmosphere and the smelly incense that choked the air over the wakes held in their adjacent apartments, as they both mourned the mothers they lost, Goro also realized his power demanded a price.)

* * *

_First touch, alive._

“You died and I brought you back, but you only have a minute left,” he quickly explains to Ren after the barista calms down. He flinches back and shakes his head when Ren reaches over to prod at the bruise he can feel forming on his head. Goro checks the countdown on his phone. “Well, less now. I’m sorry but we don’t have much time, Amamiya-kun. What do you remember?”

“You can _raise the dead_? What the hell, Akechi, that’s so cool. Is that why you never bring me along when you’re working murders?” Of course, Ren focuses on that part. Goro clears his throat and shoots him a pointed look.

“Uh, right. So this weird-looking dude, with these sunglasses and this tacky purple suit, he came in this morning, just a little after opening.” Ren’s brow furrows, straining to remember as much as he can. Bless him, Goro had drilled case procedure into his head, during the times the barista accompanied him on his normal cases. Ren knows what he needs. “We were making some small talk, and he started badgering me about my name so I told him. He just smiled and started going on about loose ends and old cases and cleaning up Shibuya or whatever, and then suddenly he just goes for me. I panicked and tossed whatever I could get my hands on at him and— oh man, Sojiro is going to _kill_ me— and I guess he managed to grab me. Next thing I knew, you were feeling up my face.”

“I-I was not feeling you up!” Goro objects, his cheeks puffing up in indignation. “Look, did you recognize him from anywhere?”

“Never seen him before in my life,” Ren snorts, and Goro finds himself chuckling too.  

_Second touch, dead again. Forever._

“Hey Goro— sorry, I’ve always wanted to call you that.” Ren apologizes when Goro starts at his name. The barista’s eyes are downcast as he continues, “I mean… I don’t think I’ll get the chance to say that again... or anything at all really.” He looks away, twirling a lock of his hair between his fingers before meeting his gaze meets Goro’s squarely. “I just wanted to tell you, before I go, that I love you a-and I wish I’d let you know sooner,” Ren finishes shakily.

Goro’s eyes widen. “I feel the same way, _Ren,_ ” He manages to reply before the rest of his words catch on his throat. They catch, but he feels despair flowing up from his breaking heart and it pushes the words right out of his mouth. “I love you too. I just wish we had more time.”

“...Kiss me?” Ren whispers.

Goro can only nod before he’s already closing the distance. The gap between them shrinks to mere centimetres, but he couldn’t will himself to go any further than that. He knows Ren only has seconds left. he knows of the consequences if they push that limit, and so, with his heart dragging in his chest, he pushes forward. He’s close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Ren’s lips— the same warmth he’ll be stealing away soon.

But before they could touch, the jingle of the café door startles them apart right as Goro’s timer goes off. The door swings open and drops another body into the café.

_Keep a dead thing, a dead man, alive for more than a minute, and something else, some_ one _else, has to die._


	2. Day 4 - Home

They end up crashing at Futaba’s room. Ren explains the circumstances of his death to Futaba, Goro explains his powers to Ren. They all end up screaming at some point. It’s cathartic.

“So who died after, you know,” Futaba asks with all the sensitivity of a sedated rhinoceros and gestures at a bemused Ren, still as alive and not-dead-forever as he was when they fled the café. She’s the very picture of laid-back indifference, with how she bonelessly flops around her chair, but the stare she levels at Goro tells him she’s anything but.

Old Man Ooshima was eighty-two years old, twice divorced and he ran the second-hand store in the backstreets of Yongen-Jaya—or so Goro had gathered from the crowd of curious onlookers whispering around the café. Ooshima was also unlucky enough to be at the wrong place at the right time: in proximity to a certain detective and an un-re-deaded barista in a ransacked café; where he makes like Goro’s countdown and runs out of time— or so Goro explains.

He knows he should feel guilty; he’d traded a man’s life for his own gains, accidentally or not. But he’s so happy that Ren’s still here, that Ren doesn’t have to go, that his happiness eclipses any other feeling he could be experiencing right now.

And judging from the look in Ren’s eyes, he feels the same.

Futaba rolls her eyes at them and makes a noise of disgust, “If you two are done eye-fucking each other, can we _please_ get on with the case?”

“Right,” Goro coughs and straightens his tie. “From the events Ren described in the café, we can conclude that this crime was premeditated. The culprit went to Leblanc this morning to kill Ren and tried to disguise their crime as a burglary gone wrong.”

“But who would want to kill him? Ren’s the nicest guy in Tokyo, even if, like, half the people he knows are shady as hell.” Goro sees Ren pout in mock displeasure. It’s cute but Goro really needs to focus.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.” Goro turns his attention back to the barista. “You said he mentioned something about old cases? Do you think he was referring to your assault record?”

“What? That was ages ago!” Ren frowns. “I didn’t even _do_ anything. Why would anyone want to take me out for that?”

“It’s still the only other lead we have.” Futaba says. “I’ll pull up what I can about that case, just give me a minute,” she swivels back to her computer and lets her fingers fly over her keyboard.

Minutes pass and nothing. Futaba’s keystrokes become more forceful and her mouth even filthier, until finally, she slams her head onto her keyboard in resignation.

“This is weird. I can’t find any traces of his file in the database,” she whines. 

“We have no choice then,” Goro says, “I’ll head over to the police archives tomorrow to see what I can dig up on Ren’s record. Futaba, keep an eye out for anyone who matches the murderer’s description. If he’s as flashy as Ren says, then it’s only a matter of time until we find our suspect.”

“What about me? I’m helping too,” Ren says, his mouth set in a straight line.

“No, you are not. I need you to stay low-key. We can’t have your murderer see you or know you’re still running around. Ooshima’s death might buy us some time.”

“I can’t just sit around and do nothing! Look, I can keep a low profile. I can even disguise myself a little, if that helps,” Ren argues back, “We want to catch that guy as soon as possible, right? I can ask some of my contacts to keep an eye out too. I’m helping too, Goro.”

They stare at each other in a silent stand-off, with neither of them willing to back down.

Futaba tips the balance in Ren’s favor. “Sorry, Goro, but Ren’s right. We need to find the killer as soon as possible and get on with our lives. He’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Goro relents; he’s outvoted anyway. “This might get dangerous so you’ll have to follow my lead.” to which Ren agrees.

“Now that that’s settled, I was thinking,” Futaba muses, in a tone that promises nothing but trouble for Goro. “It can’t be safe from him to stay at Leblanc, right?” A glint of mischief makes its way into her little goblin eyes. “I mean the killer’s bound to get antsy when he doesn’t hear about Ren’s death on the news. He might even come back to finish— re-finish?— the job. He’ll need to stay somewhere else for now.”

Oh no. He sees where this is going, but he knows nothing can stop Futaba when she’s put her mind to something.

“We need him somewhere close by, so we can easily regroup whenever we need to. I’d ask him to stay here but we don’t really have any space. I swear Sojiro’s hoarding tendencies are getting worse every year.” Goro holds his tongue and doesn’t comment on the state of Futaba’s room. Low hanging fruit and all. “So I figured, Ren should stay at your apartment. I know your place is big enough.”

“You want Ren to stay with me,” Goro says flatly. “With me, where he could die if we so much as brush each other in the hallway? May I remind you that my flat only has one bedroom. Can’t we get him an apartment?”

“We need to watch our budget, okay? It’s not like we’re getting paid for this case and I just upgraded my rig. We’re a little tight this month.”

“Goro looks kind of uncomfortable with this and I don’t want to intrude,” Ren says, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “I could probably stay with Ryuji and Yusuke. They won’t mind if I crash at their couch for a few days.”

Futaba shoots down that idea. “Like we said, you need to stay under the radar. Ryuji’s not exactly… subtle and I can’t trust Inari not to plaster your face all over his next exhibit. You’re staying with Goro.”

The detective sighs but he doesn’t argue. Score one for Futaba, as usual. “Very well then. We’ll go to my apartment for now and figure out our living arrangements. Keep us posted if you find anything.” He nods at Ren and they both stand up to leave.

Ren’s out the door when Futaba says, “Hey Goro, could I talk to you for a moment?” Goro nods at her, and signals Ren to wait outside.

“Is this about what I did? With the time limit?” Goro asks, looking at his feet. Long ago, he had stopped feeling any guilt when using his powers, given that he never dared before today to break the time limit again when waking dead people. But talking to Futaba about it always brought back that guilt he felt long ago, out in the hallway outside the home he used to share with his mother.

Futaba grimaces. “I know I gave you a lot of shit back then. For playing god with your stupid powers,” Goro gives a tiny nod in understanding and to urge her to continue, “But when Ren told me earlier that he died, it felt like when I lost my mom; so helpless and losing the people I love from bullshit reasons. But then he said that you brought him back and for once... I was actually glad you had your powers and, and— augh I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.” Futaba clutches her hair in frustration. “I just… thank you. For bringing him back. I know you didn’t mean to, and I know someone died for this but…”

“...I know. I’ll be careful this time,” Goro whispers. At least he didn’t orphan any neighbours this time.

“You’d better be, you jerk.” Futaba says, elbowing him in the side. She pauses for a moment, smoothing down her hair from the mess she turned it into earlier and teases “...so, you and Ren are on first name basis now huh, _Goro_?”

Busted. Goro feels his face combust. He only scoffs, turns on his heel and marches straight out the door.

Futaba’s laughter echoes around the house. “Take care of my big bro, alright? I don’t think Sojiro’s ready for grandchildren yet!”

* * *

Morgana is curled up on Goro’s tiny dining table when they arrive at his apartment. The little thief pouch he called his belly bulged with his spoils while he napped contentedly.

Ren instantly locks on to one of his brethren. “You have a cat? What’s his name?” He drops his bags and reaches over to scritch the cat behind the ears. Surprisingly, Morgana lets him, letting out loud purrs of delight.

Well no, that wasn’t actually his cat, but the little thief had made a habit of sneaking in for delicious treats, or lacking that, shiny treasures; Goro figured that a keeping a few cat biscuits out was worth the peace of mind of not having to shake down a cat for his belongings.

“Ah, that’s Morgana,” Goro replies, placing on the couch the bags of supplies they picked up on the way. He begins pulling off his gloves and then pauses when he remembers the state of his present company. He busies himself with preparing tea instead. “He drops by every once in a while for food, but he doesn’t stay with me. He’s also...” Goro wiggles his fingers meaningfully from the kitchenette.

Ren’s eyes flash in understanding. He cuddles the cat to his chest, eliciting another purr,  and plops himself down on the living room couch. “So you don’t pet this little guy at all huh? No wonder he’s so clingy. Well’s it’s okay now, Mona. I’ll pet you enough for two.”

‘Mona?’ Goro mouths bemusedly at the cat as he leans on the dining table. He’s sure that if cats could smirk, Morgana’s would be the smuggest in town. “Ren, we should discuss our...situation since we’ll be living together until this case blows over. I’m sure I don’t need to say this again, but just to be clear: any direct contact between us and you’ll be dead again.” He continues when Ren nods back. “I’m afraid I can only offer you the couch while you’re here. We might have to move it just so we don’t accidentally bump into each other in the middle of the night.”

“I’d love to bump into you all night long,” Ren says lowly, playfully wagging his eyebrows, “Sorry, that was bad. I’m cool with the couch though, I don’t think we can move all your stuff out of your room just to accommodate me. God knows how many skincare products you’ve got in there.”

Goro huffs. First of all, his lotions were _in the_ _bathroom_ , thank you very much. Second, well, he was definitely down for Ren’s horrible proposal if said proposal didn’t turn the barista into a lifeless corpse. “Moving on, just to minimize any risks, we’ll have to reduce the amount of exposed skin. That means gloves and long sleeves whenever we’re near each other. The bathroom hallway is rather narrow so we’ll have to tread carefully.” Goro’s face flashes into a grin. “Maybe you should start wearing a bell?”

“On a little collar too? Sign me up,” Ren replies drily, to Goro’s laughter, “Maybe I should get Mona one too. We could match.”

Goro wipes a tear from his eye. “I’m kidding, of course. Although... I certainly wouldn’t object to seeing that. Anyway, are you hungry? We can get lunch going before we have to rearrange the furniture.”

And they do just that. They lob vegetables over the small kitchen area and slide peelers and knives across the counter. Morgana bats at the peels that fell to the floor. His quiet apartment was filled with their boyish laughter. It was  _fun._

It’s half an hour later, while they wait for their curry to cook, when Ren says, “You know, you never carried out my last request.”

“What?”

“I asked you to kiss me! And you didn’t! I told you my dying wish and you chickened out,” Ren pouts.

“We were interrupted!” Goro objects, pointedly keeping his eyes on the simmering pot.” Furthermore, I’d like to point that that _does not_ count as a dying wish, that’s more of a death wish.”

He doesn’t look when Ren giggles in reply, or when hears him rummage through the drawers, or when he hears the crinkling of plastic. He doesn’t look, but his curiosity wins out in the end. Right when he turns to look, Goro is greeted by a faceful of plastic bag, quickly sandwiched between Ren’s soft lips and his own. He locks his arms to his sides, to stop himself from running his hands through Ren’s hair or cupping his face in his hands and never letting go.

The kiss is warm and brief and tastes a little of plastic, but Goro can’t help but dive in for more.


	3. Day 5 - Trickery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick notice but I've bumped up the rating to M for this chapter. Tags have been updated as well.

Two weeks pass and their leads turn up a whole pile of nothing but dead ends. They’re not even the sort that Goro can un-dead and then re-dead again for clues.

Ren’s record is sealed tighter than an Egyptian tomb; the sort not yet discovered and subsequently looted by amateur historians and also the sort that would curse Goro with years of bad juju as soon as he opens it, at least if Goro’s suspicions prove correct.

And open it he does. It had taken him one week, six autographs, twenty-three selfies, two boxes of fruit tarts, and seventeen hours of backbreaking box-carrying labor before he could politely hint at the lovely ladies watching the archives to take a hike while he browsed through their files. Goro needs to see that file— if not to avenge his boyfriend, then to honor his wallet’s sacrifice; those tarts were expensive.

He scans through the file and finds nothing that stands out. On his way home from cram school, it says, one Ren Amamiya was sixteen years old when he approached a man and shoved him to the ground, completely unprovoked. The man had bravely protected his female companion from the rest of the teenager’s violent assault until the police arrived. He managed to escape with only minor injuries and the teenager was sent to Tokyo on probation.

It is suspicious though, Goro thinks. For a minor assault, the amount of security on Ren’s case was abnormally high. Even more suspicious were the black lines that cover all traces of the man’s identity. Goro finds nothing on the man, but the secrecy does confirm something: he’s definitely someone high up.

Something else he takes note of is the name of the witness: one Himiko Matsukawa.

Futaba hasn’t seen any sign of their murderer; all of her hits so far were met with nothing but a shake of Ren’s head. But she does find him a wealth of information on their witness.

Matsukawa had been twenty-three when the assault occurred. She worked at a small firm in Sendai, pushing papers around for businessmen, politicians and minor celebrities, until she left to get hitched last year.

Goro spies the last file on her makeshift dossier: a newspaper clipping from two months ago, reporting her death. A hit-and-run, no suspects arrested.

Two months. She would’ve been laid to rest by now. Goro doesn’t know how his powers would work with human ashes and he has no intention of finding out.

He sighs, rubs at his eyes in frustration, and moves to put away his files.

He wants to go home.

It’s funny; before this case, Goro had never been attached to his apartment, never liked coming back to a room that felt more like a sepulchre than a sanctuary.  

But now, his apartment, _his home_ , felt alive. All it took was a dead person to fill it.

Nowadays, he wakes up to the smell of coffee wafting from the kitchen and comes home to the sounds of Ren’s “Welcome home, honey” accompanied by his laughter. Fell back into that cozy warmth, that easy rhythm they danced around with each other during Goro’s visits to Leblanc.

Tonight, his eyes are glued on Ren, fresh from his bath. Goro’s eyes follow the droplets of water tracing down Ren’s jaw, down to his slender neck and down his shirt to areas that existed only in Goro’s imagination. Under different circumstances, he’d love to trail after those droplets, map out every inch of Ren’s lean body with his hands and mark out every inch of his pale skin.

But there was the rub, wasn’t it? Skin. In their case, skin was forbidden. Skin meant death. Goro knows this. His boyfriend knows this. But his boyfriend also knows what he does to him, sees it in the teasing smirk on his lips as he bares his neck and in the sashaying of his bare hips, covered only with a towel because _oops, sorry I forgot to grab my clothes before I went in_. He curses the tease known as Ren Amamiya; whispers his name, in between many other obscenities, as he grips himself under his boxers when he’s lying along in his bed. And judging from the sounds Goro hears from the living room at night— sounds Goro knows he’s meant to hear— Ren also has the same idea. Soon enough, he whispers the filthiest ideas his brain could conjure into Ren’s ear, interspersed with sweet nothings. Ren breathes back the most debauched things he’d love to do to him, alongside promises of a life together; all through the tinny speaker of their phones.

On nights like these, Goro thinks as he pants heavily into his sheets, he wouldn’t mind if this case lasted a little longer.

* * *

Real life comes a-knocking to the tune of five bills in the mail and one dead body in an alleyway; as much as Goro would like to focus on solving his boyfriend’s murder, he _is_ working that case pro bono and Ren still can’t risk going to his part-time jobs. Even his magic touch can’t revive his wallet, at least not directly.

They meet Makoto Niijima at the scene, an obscure alley in the backstreets around Udagawa. It’s early enough to almost be deserted. She sends a quick glare at Goro’s direction before looking questioningly at Ren, bundled under a thick scarf and fake glasses. “What brings the two of you here?”, she asks.

“Hello, Niijima-san. Sae-san called me this morning to assist with this case. Ren here will be assisting me. Do you mind if we examine the crime scene?”

“If HQ’s given you clearance then I can’t stop you. Forensics already swept the entire alley and the surrounding areas but you’re free to try. We’re still waiting for the coroner to arrive.”

“Thank you, Niijima-san. Perhaps a fresh pair of eyes will turn up something new? I might find a clue or two that you’ve missed.” Goro says sweetly. He shoots a quick glance at Ren, who responds with a tiny nod.

“Makoto?” He asks, before Makoto could even form a rebuttal, gently steering her away and out of the alley. “Could I ask you a few questions about the case?”  

Goro cranes his neck, checking to make sure the pair were out of earshot, and looks around to see if any other officers were nearby. Satisfied, he takes off a glove, sets up his timer and kneels down to tap the corpse’s hand.

Junya Kaneshiro sits up, blood still leaking from the bullet hole between his eyes. He looks Goro up and down and growls, “What the fuck do you want, kid?”

“My name is Goro Akechi. I’m a detective and I’m here to investigate a murder. Your murder, in fact.” Goro replies coolly. “Care to share your thoughts, Kaneshiro-san?”

Kaneshiro stills and lets loose another torrent of curses. “Get me that bastard Kumagai.” He hisses venomously. “What the hell does that fucking meathead think he’s doing? I’ve paid up this month—”

Goro interrupts him, “Who is this ‘Kumagai’, Kaneshiro-san? Was he the one who killed you?”

“Kumagai! Don’t know his name, but he’s from one of the Shinjuku clans. Asshole asked to meet with me then shot me in the fucking face! Probably offed that poor bastard Madarame too.”

Goro makes a mental note to ask Futaba. “You mentioned that you were ‘paid up’? What do you mean by that?” Goro asks, glancing at his timer. 20 seconds left. In the distance, he hears Ren yell for Makoto.

“You really don’t know anything, do you, detective?” He could hear the voices coming nearer. “Kumagai’s been running errands for that guy, he’s been on TV a lot lately. That politician, Ma—”

Kaneshiro’s still got seconds left but Goro’s out of time. He taps Kaneshiro again before the man could say anything more. The body slumps back to the ground with a meaty thud, right as Makoto turns the alley and fixes him with a puzzled look. Ren peeks out from behind her, mouthing an apology.

“I thought I should inform you, Akechi-kun. HQ’s asked me to report in just now. Did you find anything from the body?”

Goro stands up, replaces his glove and brushes himself off, “I believe he was murdered after an altercation with a rival gang member from Shinjuku. A man called ‘Kumagai’. I suspect there’s more to this case, Niijima-san. Something more than bad blood between two clans.”

“You got all that in the last five minutes?” Makoto asks, disbelief dripping from her voice.

“What can I say? I _am_ an exceptional detective after all,” Goro politely chuckles, more so at the irritation that flashes across Makoto’s face. He sees Ren flash him a disapproving look so he attempts to soothe her, “Ah, I admit, Kaneshiro’s name came up in another one of my cases and I’ve been keeping tabs on his movements. I’ll bring my files over at the station later.”

(He does not have any files at all. But he has Futaba and he trusts her to work her magic.)

Makoto still eyes him skeptically, “I’ve given Ren an overview of the case but frankly, our investigation has only just started. Your information will be greatly appreciated, Akechi-kun. I’ll see you later.”

(And later, when Futaba pulls up a picture of Kaneshiro’s killer that Ren’s eyes widen in recognition, “That’s him. That’s the guy who killed me.”)


	4. Day 6 - Initiation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh, not too happy with this chapter but here it is. This probably wasn't what they meant by 'initiation' either [shrug emoji]
> 
> Anyway, bumped up the rating again and added some tags.

The next few days are rough on Goro and it shows; his eyes were sunk from the multiple stakeouts he had been invited to, his face was breaking out from days of missing his usual skincare routine, and his jaw felt cramped from parading his pleasant persona to witnesses and officers alike. Even with Kaneshiro’s information and the files that Futaba handed him, it takes some time before the police finally have a warrant out on one Tetsuhiro Kumagai.

But Kumagai’s gone. He hasn’t been in his usual haunts for days, so they can’t do anything but wait for him to show up. 

They can feel the end approaching and Goro is tired, so very very tired. Dead-tired even, that he collapses into the couch as soon as he arrives at the apartment. The facts continue to turn in his head.

One killer with two unrelated victims; three, if Matsukawa's death wasn't so accidental after all, and four if Madarame was as involved as Kaneshiro said. The former master artist had been hiding from the spotlight after the accusations of plagiarism plagued the last years of career. 

There were no apparent links between these four deaths; just the presence of this mysterious man looming over every single case. If this man was one and the same, Ren’s victim, Matsukawa’s companion and Kaneshiro’s beneficiary, then this man wanted to bury his tracks along with his witnesses. 

Futaba had hacked into Kaneshiro’s and Madarame’s accounts and found monthly transfers to an unknown recipient. Further hacking had only led them to an intricate web of shell accounts and dummy corporations with no name in sight. Days of radio silence tells Goro she hasn’t had much luck yet on that front.

Ren does his own share of legwork. He’s in and out of the apartment lately, meeting with his journalist friend or the airsoft shop owner or some weird fortune teller; Goro’s given up on keeping track. 

They’re both home today, thankfully. His boyfriend takes one look at the tired detective melting on the couch and throws a thick blanket over him, covering him entirely from head to toe. Goro makes a questioning noise, moving to untangle himself when he feels Ren’s arms pull him closer and encircle him in a hug.

He freezes, barely stopping himself from flinching away, before he finds himself slowly leaning into the touch. “I-I’m sorry,” he manages to say after a few moments, still trying to bury himself close to Ren’s warm chest, “It’s been a long time since someone’s hugged me like that. I’m not used to this.”

“I know. Even back then, you always looked kinda lonely. You’re so popular but you keep everyone at arm’s length. I didn’t really understand why until you brought me back to life.”

“I-I don’t what god gave this power to me or why, and I’m scared because there’s still so much I don’t know about it. Everything I know about it I had to figure out the hard way. God, I ended up killing Futaba’s mom when we were kids,” Goro’s hands bunch into the blanket and he breathes to steady his voice again. “I can’t take back what I did, not without anyone else paying the price, and the law can’t knows nothing of my wrongdoings nor can they prove it. So I thought I’d use my power to atone; to find the truth and bring these murderers to justice… but I’ve always been terrified that one day, I’ll mess up and someone ends up dead again because of me. Or worse, that I’d walk into the morgue and it’s Futaba or Sae-san under the sheet and— and I’d have to choose.”

“I’m sorry,” Ren’s voice rumbles through the blanket into Goro. No. It wasn’t his fault. Goro lets him know this, furiously shaking his head against Ren’s chest. It wasn’t his fault Goro was too weak to let him go. It wasn’t his fault he got killed. Goro remembers the nights when he can’t sleep, when he pads to the living room to check if the past weeks were real and that Ren is still there— still breathing— and he hears the soft whimpers and pleas that escape Ren’s mouth, sees the other boy flail as he relives his own death in his dreams. At those moments, Goro wished nothing more than to hold his boyfriend close until his limbs still in peaceful slumber, until the tears that gather around his still-closed eyes dry off. But he couldn’t, so he sat close by— not close enough for Ren to reach him— and begged for Ren to wake up. It’s during those nights that Goro desperately wants to this case over and done with; just for the slightest chance they’d make Ren’s nightmares go away forever.

They sit together like this, just relishing in their proximity. It takes a few moments before he feels Ren pull back a little. He’s about to protest when he feels a soft pressure, Ren’s lips he thinks, press into his eyelid. 

“Shit, I missed,” he laughs when he hears Ren curse and then feels the same pressure on the bridge of his nose, and then down the corner of his mouth before they finally land on his lips. They press together hard at first, until they part to breathe and then their lips meet again in a flurry of soft pecks. Ren’s slowly mouths down his jaw and makes Goro feel like he’s overheating when he feels teeth nibble down his neck through the thick fabric. 

“Goro,” Ren whispers, almost breathes into his ear, “I want to touch you. Please.”

His mind tells him no, it’s too risky, too dangerous, but the arousal twisting in his gut reaches up and nods his head for him anyway. He whines when he feels Ren extract himself, feels the couch shift when he gets up and renews his abandoned struggle against his confines. He manages to throw the blanket off in time to see Ren grin wickedly at him while he snapped on a pair of red nitrile gloves.

The barista’s hands trace over his face in a gentle caress, his thumbs gliding over Goro’s features. Skillful hands unbutton his blazer and his undershirt and runs down to trace the smooth muscles of his torso. Goro’s hands twitch, but he fights back the ache to reach out and touch  

Ren notices anyway. “Uh-uh, Goro, you had your chance back at the café. It’s my turn to touch you now,” and with a flash, he pulls off Goro’s tie and knots his wrists together behind his back. His smirk widens, “There we go. Can’t have any risks now, can we?” 

Goro only groans in response. He’s burning up, his blood boils away in his veins, his cock throbs between his legs. He feels so much, so overwhelmed that his brain gives up and blanks out. He almost sobs in relief when Ren pops open his pants and relieves some of the tightness down there. Goro can’t even suppress the surprised moans he lets out, throwing his head back and arching into the touch when he Ren palms him through his boxers. 

“P-please. Touch me more, Ren. I want to feel you,” he hears himself say, bucking his hips to feel more of that delicious friction.

“As much as you want, dear,” Ren promises. He yanks down Goro’s boxers, reaching into his pocket with his free hand. He slips a condom over Goro’s dick and runs his fingers up and down his shaft, lightly tracing a line from the base to its tip. He continues his gentle touching until Goro whines, unable to take any more of his teasing. Ren merely smirks at him before he fully grips Goro and strokes hard and fast.

Goro screams, his eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. He squirms against bindings, to smother his moans, to hook his arms around Ren’s neck, to touch Ren back—  he doesn’t know. Through the slits of his eyes, he sees Ren shove his hand down his own pants, pumping himself in time with Goro. 

He doubles over when he feels the pressure about to snap in his gut, or at least he tries to— Ren’s other hand, the one not sending waves after waves of pleasure down Goro’s spine, snaps out and pushes his head back onto the back of the couch. Goro mouths at the hand, tasting pre-cum— tasting  _ Ren _ — on the glove, and his vision floods white as he comes hard. Through the haze, he sees Ren finish himself off as well before he slumps down on the coffee table, panting hard. 

“I love you so much, Ren,” Goro whispers as soon as he catches his breath. “Please stay with me. We’ll find the bastards that killed you, I swear.”

“I love you too, Goro, always,” Ren replies, brushing a thumb to Goro’s lips in a vague approximation of a kiss. “We’ll give those bastards hell.”


	5. Day 8 - Possibility

The police find Kumagai eventually— or at least what’s left of him. It’s not pretty; the man had been drifting off the coast of Tokyo Bay for several days before the currents somehow brought him back to shore. Goro’s seen some gruesome things in his line of work, but this one’s right up there. They clear out the morgue, throw out the coroner—  _ professional secrets, I’m sure you understand— _ and waits until Futaba texts them that the cameras were taken care of.

One text and a quick tap later, the cleaner sits up, albeit with some difficulty. Saltwater drips from the patches of skin missing from his body. He squints at Ren. “Didn’t I kill ya before?” 

Ren glares in response. Goro figures it’s as good a time as any to get the ball rolling.

He coughs and introduces himself, “My name is Goro Akechi, private detective, and this is my assistant Ren Amamiya. I believe you’ve met before.”

Kumagai snorts in response. “So, you lived huh kid? How’d ya manage that?”

“I didn’t,” Ren mutters darkly. Goro decides to steer them back on topic before the conversation derails further off the tracks and kills the coroner outside the door.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Kumagai-san, but we don’t have much time. Who killed you? Was it your employer?

“Right the point eh, detective?” Kumagai chuckles, “You know, our code says I’m never to talk about this stuff. Supposed to take these secrets with me to my grave or something. But hey, would ya look at that— I’m already dead.” He laughs, causing more saltwater to leak out with every shake of his body.

Goro recoils in disgust and takes a couple of steps back to avoid the water leaking to the ground. From the corner of his eye, he sees Ren turn a shade greener. 

“It’s that politician, Masayoshi Shido. Asked me clean up some of his— aha— less than savory ties before he starts gunnin’ for Prime Minister spot.” The cleaner explains, his eyes narrowing slightly, “Guess that rat bastard’s satisfied with my services because he calls me in for a celebration and the wine starts tasting a little funny.”

Goro pales. Masayoshi Shido. A popular politician who’s almost a shoo-in for Prime Minister. How the hell did Ren get himself wrapped up with that guy? 

“What about Amamiya-kun?” He asks. At the sound of his name, Ren looks up and away from the growing puddle he’s been eyeing warily. “I hardly think one delinquent would do any damage to his reputation. Why kill him too?”

“Your little assistant got in the way of one of his little trysts a few years ago. Paid the commissioner big money just to pin it on the kid. Don’t know anything more than that,” Kumagai says airily. “Anyway, he just gave me a bunch of names and I just whacked ‘em. Told me to make them all look nice and unrelated. Guess he’s been paranoid since he’s betting it all this election; doesn’t want to risk anything staining his image. He’d probably tell me to off all of his bastards if he could remember them.” 

Something stirs at Goro’s gut, a persistent tug that he tries his best to ignore. He must have been lost in thought because Ren takes over the interrogation. 

“Do you have a copy of that list, Kumagai-san? Anything we could trace back to Shido?” He asks sharply.

“Well, I got the orders on my phone. Don’t suppose you’ve seen that around?” Ren looks at Goro, who shakes his head. “Figures. I kept a few notes on my targets in a coin locker at Kanda Station. Just a little insurance I wanted to dangle over his head in case things got ugly. Probably can’t trace it back to him directly but that’s all I got.”

Goro checks the time. They have 10 seconds left. He steps forward to tap the cleaner but Ren moves before he does. The barista rears back and decks the man right in the face; his fist makes a wet sound against the cleaner’s cheek and makes his nose scrunch in disgust.  

Goro’s jaw hangs open and shock but he at least has the presence of mind to touch the cleaner again. He wants to ask but the way Ren’s shoulders relax, even as he frantically tries to shake the water off of his hand, tells him plenty.

They’ve finally got their culprit. All Goro needs to do is to find proof that doesn’t throw Goro straight into the funny farm. He checks his glove and leads Ren back home.

* * *

The apartment is quiet, the silence only broken by the sound of turning pages or the buzz coming from their phones. Files scatter over the kitchen table: profiles, newspaper clippings, photos and various police reports.

“Don’t we have enough proof to convict that guy?” Ren asks. “We can link some of those names in that list with what we have here.” He waves around a picture— a scene from a lavish party (Shido’s, Ohya had assured them), with Madarame standing near the edges.  

“I’m afraid none of these are conclusive enough. It’s not unusual to invite celebrities to political events.” 

“What about the memos Makoto gave us?” He gestures to a stack by his elbow, nearly knocking it over in the process. “Shido promises to tackle drug crimes, then next he’s transferred out half the narcs from Tokyo and cut the budget for the rest of the force. That’s around the time Kaneshiro started dealing too. Isn’t that suspicious enough?” 

“Again, that’s too circumstantial,” Goro responds, putting down his own files. “While his methods were unusual, and ultimately ineffective, they are still part of his duties. With the other files we have, we can take him in for questioning but it will be hard to pin anything on him.”

Ren’s head slams down on to the table, groaning pitifully. Goro would laugh if he didn’t want to do the same thing himself. 

“You know, I thought murders would be more exciting.” Ren whines, his voice slightly muffled by the papers his face was pressed into. “I was expecting shootouts! Dramatic chases! You’ve doomed me to a second life of boring paperwork, Goro.” 

Goro laughs. “This is actually one of my more interesting cases.” Ren shoots him a dubious look at that. “It’s true! Most victims are all too eager to point me in the right direction. I find that really kills the mystery.” 

Ren snorts. “Lucky me, then. But I think I’ll stick with thefts next time. All the excitement with none of the gross waterlogged corpses.” 

Next time, right. They haven’t breached the topic of what happens after. “Now that we’re on the topic, we should probably talk about your plans after this case is over. It should be safe for you to move back home.”

“Kicking me out already? Babe, please, we can talk this over.” Goro gives him an unimpressed look. “I kinda wanted to ask if I could stay here with you. Your couch is even more comfortable than my bed at the attic. A lot less dusty too.”

“When Shido’s gone, it’d be riskier for you to stay here. Just one wrong move from either of us and you’re dead again. I can’t bring that kind of risk around you.” Goro fixes his eyes back to the report in his hands, “In fact, I was thinking… you can live a normal life after this. No one else knows you died, and you’re not any different from anyone else. Don’t you think it’s better for you if we go our separate ways?”

“No!” Ren’s head snaps up and Goro feels the glare burning through the paper he’s definitely not hiding behind. “I meant what I said at the cafe, Goro. I love you and I want to be with you. I knew the risks when I promised I’d stay with you. Goro, please look at me.” 

He can’t. He hears the chair scrape up against the kitchen tiles and feels the blanket— the one they’ve taken to keeping nearby— fall over most of his head, leaving his face free, and settle past his shoulders. Ren’s weight settle over his side and draws him closer in a loose, one-armed hug.

“You said you don’t really know much about your powers. Don’t you think that maybe someday, this could be permanent?” Ren says, steady and firm. “I do, and I’m sticking with you for as long as it takes to prove that. And when I do, I’ll give you a proper kiss and we can cuddle in bed, and just  _ touch each other _ , like any other couple would.” Ren leans over and noses into the blanket covering the side of his head. “But until then, I’m sure I can get creative with you.”

Goro isn’t sure whether he wants to laugh or to cry so he settles for doing both. He bumps his shoulder against Ren’s, still scrubbing at his eyes, and tries to get his breathing under control when his phone starts ringing.

“Would you two check your messages already?” Futaba shouts into his ear. Her voice is loud enough for Ren to hear, but Goro switches her over to speaker mode anyway and places the phone on the center of the table. “I’ve been texting you two for ages! I found something good!” 

The blinking light on Goro’s phone confirms his missed messages. “Did you find Shido’s name in one of the bank accounts?” 

“Ugh, no, nothing that good. I did find something else though, someone else has been sending money into these accounts.” Futaba’s keyboard clacks through the speakers. “It’s not a regular thing, around two or three times a year at most, but it’s a huge amount of cash. Anyway, I managed to trace it to someone, and you’re not going to believe this.”

“Someone else is paying Shido? Who is it?” Ren asks, leaning closer to the phone, as if to urge Futaba to continue. 

“Kunikazu Okumura, the president of Okumura Foods! He’s tied up in all this as well!

He meets Ren’s eyes and sees they’re as wide as his own. If Shido was truly taking these donations in exchange for unsavory work, it would take some serious persuasion to get Okumura to cooperate. But they finally had a witness. At least, an alive one who can testify in court.

“Look, get over there right now! His secretary’s going to find that he’s booked meeting for you in the next 40 minutes and I’d appreciate it if you don’t miss it and waste all my hard work.”

Goro checks his glove and practically drags Ren out the door with him. He hopes Ren was right, hopes that one day, they could do this without all these layers in between.

But for now, Shido was going down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, it's finally done. I'm sorry I switched the day for the last chapter, but I think today's prompts allow for a better ending. ~~It's also not because I didn't finish writing it in time, nope.~~

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you're ready for the world's most badly-paced, most deus-ex-machina'ed mystery because here it is. 
> 
> Thank you Jade and IWP-chan for enabling this monstrosity. 
> 
> Anyway, this is probably the longest thing I'm ever going to write so there's bound to be a number of errors here. Feel free to tell me on the comments or yell at me on my twitter @[ hereliesandy](https://twitter.com/hereliesandy)


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